Brand New
Aight, this kinda seemin' too soft startin' out, this joint don’t slap. The singin’ ain’t it. Homie’s stuck on the hook like it’s the only thing he know how to do. Why this even the intro, b? Next.
Beats - 5/10
Lyrics - 0/10
5/20
---
Honestly
I'mma keep it real wit' y'all. I like the way son's flowin', son's got good moments, but these rhymes seemin' stuck in the Reagan era. "Clear, peer, here"? Ayo, we rappin' or doing nursery rhymes, son? Bruh even got this goofy line: "You can count on me, one, two, three". What this mess supposed to be son? One fish, two fish, new fish, blue fish typa mess? Whateva!! Son then wanna come out talkin' tough but ends up lookin’ soft. We got: "Got me really 'bout to call the opps out, I think if I did, I'd have an anxiety attack". Ayo, this kid done been flexin' an' talkin' 'bout he gonna bash in attackers' skulls like he Roddick somebody, an' then ya comes out wit' this bar, b?! For real!? We also got:
"You probably out here just balling like hot sauce"
Somebody need to straighten son out on his metaphors...
"I tried to be the GOAT before I tried a vegetable"
What? Ayo, maybe I ain't too well upstairs or sumthin', cause I didn't understand this line at all yo. I dunno, maybe ya gotta be a genius to appreciate it or sumthin'.
"Meanwhile a hipster in pajamas sleepwalkin' through another blog post"
Aight, now I'm gonna take this one kinda personal son...
Jokes aside tho' y'all....this soundin' like it really, really coulda been sumthin' dope, but son turns it into summa that soyboy rap that feelin' like relics dug up outta Childish Gambino's early EP drops. Wack.
Beats - 6/10
Lyrics - 2/10
8/20
---
Mr. McAdams
The sangin' on this thing soundin' dumb n' sissy right out the gate. This soundin' like some kinda discont Ed Sheeran typa mess. Son's gettin' his sad lonely boy schtick on, while this beat up in here soundin' like a cough syrup commercial. Hol' up, is that a XYLOPHONE on the beat? You didn't do this, didja son?! I ain't even gonna explain more 'bout that beat, jus' read the lyrics y'all:
"You think I'm weird as fuck
But that endearing freckle upon your chin is too much
I got a freckle on my face too
I know you've dated Taylor Kitsch
And I know you've seen Ryan Gosling's dick
Oh, girl, I don't know it all, girl
I just wanna take you to a ball, have a ball girl"
Son, what the heck?! You out tellin' this chick 'bout her former lovers in this kinda way? You aight upstairs son? Sista gonna slap you silly for all of that mess, word!! DANG THIS IS DUMB!
Word is bond y'all, ain't jack that's redeeamble in this track. Usually, your boy woulda pasted the cringe lyrics here for y'all to kinda gawk n' giggle 'bout, but I don't wanna be pastin' a whole-ass song. Somebody needs to slug son in the mouth for that Brad Pitt simile too, that junk's so dang bad y'all. GET OUT WIT' THIS MIDDLE SCHOOLER RAP!
Beats - 2/10
Lyrics - 1/10
3/20
---
HAHAHAHA
This beat straight YouTube tutorial level. It's aight I guess, but the intro's mad dumb.
Lil Doicky here's rappin’ like he readin’ off his 5th-grade book report.This soundin' like how I used to karaoke befo' someone told ya boy not to karaoke like I was dead n' whatnot. On the lyrics we got "So buckle up 'cause this a long ride like a limousine
My girl like when I spoon her all night like vanilla bean". What?????? This stupid pun, the heck son?!
It kinda hard pickin' out one clearly dumb line in this mess, so I guess I'mma take this one y'all:
"Baby, my girl so goddamn tan!!
She look racially ambiguous!! Picture this!!"
I ain't gonna front. Word is bond son rapped this in the tone of sum fo' year old who done just found a bug n' runs off to tell his mommy. Then we got a ballfaced lie yo:
"Don't mind me, I'm over here just redefinin' the alpha male
Don't mind me, I'm over here just gettin' all the opps"
First off, I think son's actually destroyin' the alpha male, cause I can think of a LOTTA things son IS, but "alpha male" ain't never occurred to me, word. And then y'all, this the same guy who was talkin' this way back on the second track: "Got me really 'bout to call the opps out, I think if I did, I'd have an anxiety attack". I ain't 'bout to believe son's any kinda "alpha male" nor gettin' any opps. Brothers woulda had a betta time believin' things if son said he was gettin' colds, or gettin' Mommy's hugs, or gettin' bagels at the store. But ain't no "gettin' opps". Puh-leeze.
Song damn stupid.
Beats - 6/10
Lyrics - 1/10
7/20
---
Ally’s Song
Dollar Store Ed Sheeran strikes again. The day son learns he don't HAVE to introduce EVERY DANG SONG soundin' like this gonna be a great day in history, people will be throwin' parades n' stuff y'all. Meanwhile, my man’s out here on some Care Bear tip talkin' to a chick. We got lines like "You had my back, I puked on you". This is son's metaphor for him turnin' his back on this girl n' whatnot. Think you jus' pukin' in my ears son, word. Then son tells this chick "I'll give you belly rubs too".
Aight.
Here's a lil' note for my girl Emma. Emma, if I EVA come outta my mouth wit' summa that mess, please slap sense back into me. Thanks my angel, love you.
Then we get this ramblin' garbage on the hook:
"And I miss you, Owly, hoot-hoot
I'm lost without you, hoot-hoot"
This whole song be soundin' like son done gone an' jacked Drake's already wack "God's Plan" track. Terrible track, this mess ain't barely qualifiyin' for a rap verse, y'all.
Beats - 0/10
Lyrics - 1/10
1/20
---
Harrison Ave.
Aight, I kinda like this intro. It's kinda got a trippy vibe. I'm feelin' this - woah, woah, woah, hol' the heck up son!! Lil Dicky jus' threw a pile full of word salad rappin' at me wit'out no warnin'!! Aight, son's really ramblin' a whole buncha lyrics fast. This more of that sad rap, son complainin' 'bout this chick from middle who left him. Son needs a filter, read summa this mess he done thrown up in here:
"He (her boyfriend) got grounded and the dance was this week
I never went to those, but now she could just stay home with me
Why didn't I go to them?
Okay, 'cause I was scared of getting boners on the dance floor
The whole thing was overwhelming, it was just a bizarre social situation"
That sums up this mess y'all.
Beats - 5/10
Lyrics - 0/10
5/20
---
Second Coming
This beat soundin' like son done broke in my crib an' recorded my washin' machine. It sucks. Son tryna rap fast, but got this Dr. Seuss rhymin'. Word is bond, son got as much soul as the line at the DMV. I think this typa thing gonna be what a robot spits out if we asked it to try summa that modern rap, b. Kinda less cringy, tho.
Beats - 3/10
Lyrics - 4/10
7/20
---
I Love Myself - I kinda like son's choice in samplin' here on the intro, but this samplin' ain't mixed well one bit. The DJ got the volumes mad screwy, b. Son's delivery soundin' all stiff an' robotic AGAIN. Why this even here son? Whole track so dang pointless, yo!
Beats - 0/10
Lyrics - 0/10
0/20
Kareem Abdul Jabber - Ayo, this hook summa that straight dumpster liquid. We got this kinda cadence son's on:
"Kareem. Abdul. Kareem Abdul Jabber. These hooks got me scoring, see me coming from afar".
This sum Mother Goose rhymin'. This garbage, it ain't gonna score NOTHIN'. This beat here soundin' like son done googled "rap beat" n' jacked the first thin' he got. Son's bars is lamer than hell, y'all disgustin' me, straight up!! We got pure bottled cringe wit' lines like: "What is his acne on the back? Is it real? Is it really that cystic?" and just plain dumb shit like "I'm not artistic, I might be autistic". No, you ain't autistic Lil Dicky, you jus' dumb.
Beats - 3/10
Lyrics - 1/10
4/20
Going Gray - I ain't gonna believe we still got a WHOLE TWELVE SONGS we gotta play. This junk ain't one bit fun.
Ayo, screw this for real son. I was laughin' at this fool so dang hard, I jus' hafta get up now an' then, an' jus' take a break y'all:
"Grays get plucked, my back is fucked
And I gotta learn TikTok
Used to play ball twice a week, now I can't really play that much
Used to drink bottles to pregame, now I can't really drink that much"
STUPIDITY!!
Beats - 0/10
Lyrics - 0/10
0/20
I Met A Girl - Sons' tryna be the poster child for hurt feelin's for the year. We gotta get a list of the Mr. Softy suckas up here, 'bout all your favourite rappers who frontin' like they playin' wit' Rottweilers n' drankin' straight whiskeybut jus' summa them jelly spined sissies who be drankin' soy milk n' crochetin' pink kitty plushies for they moms.
Movin' on from that, we got:
"How did I get all of this?
Yet still end up like this
All alone, what'd I miss?
So many dates, even dating got dated
I let her go too soon
I was scared of you
And now I'm just sad at you"
Wow, what rhymin' huh?! Damn son, you up in here rhymin' "you" with "you". You the next Ghostface, the next Zev Love X or sumthin'. Nah, you ain't, I'm jus' playin' wit' y'all.
This thing makin' me wanna wild out n' put hands on whoever made it and whoever made this STUPID BEAT. If this DJ on this wack beat ain't melted into a puddle of tears or sumthin' yet, I'mma help son along, then mosey off gracefully, nahmean?? This track done gone n' did NUTHIN', arrivin' in the air an' alla that.
Beats - 0/10
Lyrics - 0/10
0/20
YG Interlude - YG, anotha flop, shows up in here to talk sumthin'. I don't know what, I think he was talkin' 'bout how son's the best rapper ever an' alla that. Then Dicky tries to rap. Operative word for y'all is TRIES. This kid blowin' my mind the way he gettin' straight wack here:
"I'm a flower let me sprout"
Oh, so you a flower eh son?! You a lil' delicate flower huh?!
"The rent paid 'cause you know that pussy flow good, I menstruate"
I ain't gotta tell y'all why I ain't likin' this line none.
Dang son, you gots so many of these stupid, stupid, stupid "Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?!" typa bars in here, this track makin' me angrier than playin' diss tracks or sumthin'. The outro got this line:
"Somebody get a boy a gig, he got drive and flash.....................................................like a flashdrive"
That long pause is so frickin' dumb, ON ME!!!!
Beats - 0/10
Lyrics - 0/10
0/20
---
No Fruits or Vegetables - p]p,lkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk3e Yo, fam, I’mma be leavin’ this string of nonsense I typed up right here. That’s jus' ya boy wildin’ out and slammin’ my head on the keyboard ‘cause this track is straight-up torture, b.
Son openin' up screamin’ like somebody set his fluffy hair on fire. No lie, this might be the most trash intro I’ve heard since Lil Uzi pulled that Big Time Rush stunt. This beat soundin' like the DJ got a penguin jus' bangin' keys 'cross a Casio keyboard. They gonna make me hate this track!!
The lyrics get worse n' worser! Son… he said, "They book me at the festivals, the crowds been goin’ testicles." Yo, what in the nine hells is this? And THEN he wanna top it off with some dumb mess like, "I just tried molly and I barfed." Fam, please stop. Argrrtrgghh, this joint make me wanna wild out, tear my ears off my head or sumthin'!
Beats: 0/10
Lyrics: 0/10
0/20
---
We halfway through, an' I gotta take a break. Lemme tell y'all sum facts. I been bumpin' rap since back in the day. I ain't never heard such purified ass. Ya boy's played through Drake, Wayne, all them YMCMB clows from down South, a buncha no-name cats who didn't get no hype in the 80s n' 90s n' only got one tape out or sumthin'. Ya boy's played through Lil Peep, Wiz Khadija, n' every otha half-grown chump who be thinkin' he's fire on the mic when he's really a hot mess. An' I ain't NEVA heard nothin' this bad. This thing gonna be goin' right in the garbage wit' that Uzi Vert tape n' whateva the heck that Ice Spice tape was. This thing soundin like somebody handed a twelve year old a mic n' told son to go crazy wit' it. Son, this tape got me wantin' to go out n' toss some automobiles 'round, throw somebody through a brick wall, punch holes in the pavement jus' to let steam off, nahmean? But we gotta finish. I'mma go punch some holes in the asphault later yo.
---
I'm Drunk – Yo, this joint gotta be the anthem for cats who can’t hold a note if their life depended on it. Off-key singin’, trash vibes all 'round. This beat's aight, I guess… but what a waste on somethin’ this corny.
Beats - 3/10
Lyrics - 0/10
3/20
---
Morning After – This joint is summa that CERTIFIED STRAIGHT GARBAGE. This gotta be made for lames by lames. Son, real talk, ya lyrics is so wack, I can’t tell if you talkin’ about fuckin' a man or a chick. Hell outta here wit' this mess.
Beats: 1/10
Lyrics: 0/10
1/20
---
My Dick Sucks – Yo, Dicky runnin’ jokes 'bout his own name into the ground harder than I'm thinkin' of runnin' son into the ground. I wish I didn't have to waste time on y'all. This hook corny as all get out, yo. "Y’all washed like shirts, kid been ballin’, Nerf." Man, what?! Anotha generic trap beat that jus' be wastin’ my time.
I ain't even gonna pretend I know what son was rappin' 'bout here, probably garbage. The outro's mad irrelevant too.
Beats: 2/10
Lyrics: 0/10
2/20
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Still Freestylin’ – FINALLY, we at the end! But nah, this ain’t even worth it. The beat softer than a bedtime lullaby, and son be droppin’ nonsense like, "Mom up my ass like a prostate." Yo, this track's beat's gotta be the worst part of it all. Beat sounds like somebody playin' the piano ova a metronome tickin' noise.
Beats: 0/10
Lyrics: 0/10
0/20
---
Yo, final tally:
52/360
14%.
This album? STRAIGHT TOILET WATER. I don't really mean no harm, but sometimes this typa mess make you wanna do SUMTHIN' to these wack bustas, meanin' Lil Dicky n' his DJ. But ain’t tryna catch a charge or a lawsuit, so I’ma leave it at that. NEXT!
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